


all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

by nuclearmuffins



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Letters, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearmuffins/pseuds/nuclearmuffins
Summary: An accidentally stolen book leads to a curious string of letters between Bethany Hawke and one Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi. Stories about Tevinter archons and stuffed nugs ensues.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Bethany Hawke
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	1. from bethany to varric

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toshi_Nama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/gifts).



> The original prompt was:
>
>> I have no idea how these two would meet, but I can see them getting along *quite* well as either friends or lovers? Beth has a great deal of spine to her and a gentle cheerfulness I can see Krem enjoying - while he both is a gentleman and has no fear of magic. Does she join the Chargers? Do they happen to run into each other in Redcliffe or the Herald's Rest, and 'somehow' keep running into each other? Because you *know* Bull would ship it - as would Rocky, Dalish, and the gang. 
> 
> This was originally meant to be *much* longer and more romantic - I read a lot of my favourite books with two characters falling in love through letters for research, but personal stuff got in the way, and instead I got things chugging along on a friendship that can be interpreted however you wish. I hope I did it justice, and it's to your liking! 

Dear Varric,

Mark this one down for the history books, for it certainly is a massive achievement - Marian, Anders, and I have all survived Weisshaupt, and with only a few, _minor_ explosions. I expect you’ll be relieved to hear that this time none of them were caused by Anders. No, he’s been surprisingly well-behaved this time. I think it’s because he knows I’m watching him - you may supply the obvious pun in yourself here - but he’s been on nothing but his best behaviour. _Good._ I think he’s absolutely well aware by now of what I would do to him if he hurt Marian again.

I won’t say anything more about where we are; I’m not sure Cassandra still isn’t reading all your mail, and besides, I’m sure you know already. We’re hiding out somewhere safe to catch our breaths after what we just went through, and rest assured, I’m completely fine, and you know Anders and my sister - to find them, you just have to follow the trail of knife marks and screaming, flaming templars. 

So, onto you. How was Orlais? Wait, I think I already know - bonus points for being indoors, but _nobles_ , and besides, Orlesians never appreciate your writing anyways. You already know my stance on Orlais. I was born a Fereldan girl, and in my heart of hearts I shall always hold contempt for stinky cheeses and stuck-up nobles. (Although the dresses _are_ pretty.)

Marian sends her love, along with an “I told you so!” that she’d make it out fine. Anders sends his regards, but only if you want it. As for me, I send you -

All my love,

Bethany.

P.S. Have you seen my copy of _Thedas: Myths and Legends?_ Only I think I might have left it at Skyhold by mistake. It’s silly, I know, to be worrying about a children’s book when there’s so much going on in the world now to fuss about instead - for one, the holes in the sky with demons pouring out. But Mother sent me that my first Satinalia in the Circle, and you know how little we have left of her after Marian had to leave Kirkwall so quickly. If you can’t find it, forget I asked; it’s only a storybook. 


	2. from varric to bethany

Sunshine,

When you get back down south, you’re going to help me kill my Orlesian publisher. At least, I want you there while I interrogate that bastard for all he’s worth. Maybe stop me before I introduce him to the business end of Bianca; you always talk me down from doing the craziest shit. All this time I thought my books weren’t selling in Orlais and what happens the second I step into the Winter Palace? Mobbed by poncy nobles asking me to sign their books. Did you know the _Divine_ wanted me to sign her copy of Hard in Hightown? _Unbelievable._ All this time I assumed they didn’t read my books because they were too “pulpy” for their stuck-up asses. Now I know they apparently love that shit.

Cassandra isn’t reading my mail anymore, but I’m pretty sure _Leliana’s_ the one doing it now. And if my sources in the Merchant’s Guild are right, there’s a good chance by this time next year we’ll have a terrifying spymaster as our Divine. Doesn’t make me sleep any more comfortably at night, but ever since she had that talk with Adaar, she’s been different. With the rumours of what she’s planning and what I know of her, I think there’s hope yet in this crazy shitstorm. 

I won’t lie and say I’m exactly happy to hear from Blondie, but good to know Hawke’s doing okay, even if I’m surprised there weren’t more explosions. When all this is over with all three of us are getting together at the Hanged Man again. The ale here is too good; I miss Corff’s swill.

Tell Hawke she better not die, and I miss you most of all -

Varric.

P.S. Your book is enclosed in the package that’s coming with this letter, Sunshine, don’t worry. I’ve also got a note from the kid that borrowed it. Don’t know if you remember Krem, he’s one of Bull’s mercenaries. If you’re wondering why it’s all lumpy, he made me throw in one of his stuffed nugs. It’s supposed to be consolation for stealing your book. Can’t imagine why creepy little nug feet would make it better.


	3. from krem to bethany

Dear Miss Hawke,

My name is Cremisius Aclassi, Lieutenant of the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company. I’m sorry to say I took your book, but I have to thank you for it nonetheless. It was not my intention to steal - I am a warrior who tries to keep to some honour, and I am no thief - but it brought me great joy to read these stories, as well as to share them with the children around the Keep. I saw your name on the front page - it was a note addressed to you from your mother. I’ve read Varric’s book; I know that she died, and tragically, and so I wished to return it to you. Maker knows I have little of my own mother, and I wouldn’t want to deprive you of a keepsake from her. So I asked Varric to send this back to you in your latest correspondence with him; I hope you don’t think me impudent.

I return it to you now, but I wanted to ask if you had any further recommendations to stories. I’ve gotten the ones in the book memorized so I can tell them all I want now to the children - their favourites usually involve a mabari or ten - but eventually I’ll run out, and I can hardly read them _Hard in Hightown._ I am not as familiar as I would like to be with the stories of the south, as I hail from Tevinter, and grew up with an entirely different set of legends. 

I am sorry to trouble you, and sorrier still to have kept your book away from you for this long.

Hoping not to bother you,

Cremisius Aclassi. 

P.S. I also make stuffed nugs on the side, and have enclosed one as consolation for having kept your book for such a long time. I hope it can at least put a smile on your face.


	4. from bethany to krem

Dear Mr. Aclassi,

Thank you for the safe return of my book! While I’m glad to have it back now, I’m happier still that it brought such joy to you, and to the children especially. I had a number of young apprentices when I was still an Enchanter at the Gallows - before the war, that is. I made sure they were all safe after the war started, but not knowing their fates still worries me. I didn’t notice many children at Skyhold when I was there with my sister! And I don’t think I noticed you, either, although I’m not sure what you look like solely from a letter. Now I’m searching the faces I remember seeing, wondering if any one of them are you. Strange to think we might have already met, yet have no recollection of it! If I might ask, how did you come to start telling these stories to the children at Skyhold? It’s a wonderful kindness you’re doing, truly, and I commend you for it. 

As for the books, you’re in luck. You happen to be writing to someone who managed to read their way through every book in the village of Lothering, and half the Circle library too. And because there’s nothing better I would like to do, I compiled a list and sent it along in this letter. But there’s no need for you to go to the trouble of finding them on your own; I’ve already asked Varric to find them for you, and he’s got a way with this sort of thing - I thought it might be difficult, what with the south in the state it’s in right now. Most of them are by Brother Genitivi. I thought of including one by Philliam the Bard, but Varric thinks he’s a hack and would have them all replaced anyways. I’m not quite so picky with my reading - there weren’t many leisure books in the Circle, I took anything I could get my hands on to pass the time - but I trust Varric’s word.

All I ask in return is a story of your own - that is, only if you have time to correspond with me; I don’t think you were intending to begin an exchange of letters, but you’ll find I’m rather starved for contact (with anyone I’m not related to, that is), and missing the place I once called home desperately. I know very little of Tevinter beyond what I’ve read down in the south, and you could hardly call the opinions in Ferelden and Kirkwall unbiased. I’m not interested in hearing what I’ve been told time and time again from people who’ve never lived these lives proper; I want to hear the truth, unvarnished. 

I hope this finds you well, and I hope I haven’t been a bother to you by asking these things. 

Sincerely,

Bethany Hawke.

P.S. Are there nugs that actually have wings? I thought they only had those creepy little feet hands they scuttled about on. Not that I’m complaining; it really is such a wonderful gift, thank you so much! I just don’t believe I’ve ever heard of them having _wings_. If they do exist, I’d rather watch them fly about on them instead of those… hands for feet.


	5. from krem to bethany

Dear Miss Hawke, 

Your books have arrived! I thank you for your great kindness. Varric passed them along to me, and I’ve gotten started on reading them so I can memorize them for the children later. The volumes Varric have found for me are small enough to slip into a pocket, so I can read while on a mission. I have to say though, it is a trial to be interrupted by a band of red templars just as I get to a good part. It puts more power behind the swing of my hammer, so I can return to being captured by the next chapter of my book. You have good taste.

You did me such a kindness with these books in the first place, the least I could do is to do as you requested and answer your question. I have a deal with a Grey Warden of the Inquisition, Ser Blackwall, to cheer up the children. There are not many here. Some of the agents have families, and fewer still risk bringing them to Skyhold after what happened to Haven, but they run about and get under people’s feet while they’re working. We try to give them something to do so they won’t bother anyone else, and to distract them from everything going on around them. A number of them are the young apprentices that were with the rebel mages at Redcliffe; they mostly stick to themselves, but they’re children just like any other, even if they are separated from everyone else just for the magic they can do. 

The others are the orphans with nowhere else to go. The ones left behind when the demons coming out from the Breach killed their parents, so the Inquisition are the only ones left to take them in. What the two of us do for them is small indeed, but it puts a smile on them. This chaos is hard on us all, but I feel worst for the children. Things are confusing and crazy enough for the adults here, but growing up in a time like this… I can’t imagine what that’s like. It must be like having your youth stolen from you in a breath, changing as fast as the Breach opened. I can sympathize - sometimes, I feel like my childhood was stolen from me too, but… in a different sort of way. Regardless, I do what I can for them. Ser Blackwall carves wooden rocking horses for them and teaches the older boys and girls how to spar. I make my stuffed nugs and tell stories to them. It isn’t much, and I’m kept busy by my work for the Inquisition, but I like seeing them happy. 

I’ve never actually seen a nug with wings, no, but the children around Skyhold don’t need to know that. The wings are easy enough to make - you just have to cut out two lumpy cloud shapes and stuff them with wool. They’re cute. The Chief - that’s the Iron Bull, the leader of my mercenary company - doesn’t like nugs; he says he hates their (pardon my language) “creepy as shit hands for feet”. I have to keep them away from him; the Inquisition isn’t letting him carry out his dream of dwarf-tossing, so he’s trying to use my nugs as projectiles instead. I don’t make them as fast as I used to, though, and my sewing skills have gotten rusty. 

In exchange, I promised a story of Tevinter, and I shall give one to you. Have you ever heard the story of the Archon Tidarion? 

Tidarion was the first Archon from the Laetan class, the lower-class mages who come from no known mage stock. Every child in Tevinter born to Soporati - the sleepers - dreams of being the one in their family to wake with magic and be elevated, and Archon Tidarion was the first to give us that dream. The magisters refused to recognize him because he wasn’t one of their own. Magic was something to be guarded. It meant they were special, that the Old Gods had chosen them, and the very idea that they would grant it th someone they had been taught was far below even the scum on their boot. 

So Tidarion took the throne by force. He fought with a blade like a commoner, but used magic only like an Archon could. His methods were brutal, but he had the support of the Laetan mages; mages who had come from nothing, like he had, and were tired of being stepped on by the magisters.

That’s the hope of every Tevinter family without magic - that one day their child might suddenly awaken with powers and elevate them. It’s the hope that keeps them going, just like anybody in the south. I think that’s what I appreciate about the Inquisition at most - it’s hope without terms or conditions, unlike Tevinter. Inquisitor Adaar might be ridiculed, stared at, jeered, but she stands for us all, even the strangest or most misunderstood, like she is. I think the Bull’s Chargers would disband and join the Inquisition formally if we could, but the Chief gets this sad face whenever we bring it up. It’s mostly a formality anyways; the Inquisitor might as well be one of us, given how much time she spends with the Chief. 

Thank you for allowing me to tell a story of my homeland. It’s been a while since I left, and though I like the south plenty enough, I do miss telling tales of my homeland. I hope I haven’t bored you; the stories in your books are a great deal more exciting than what I can tell you.

Yours sincerely,

Cremisius Aclassi.


	6. from bethany to krem

Dear Mr. Aclassi,

I’m so glad the books are to your liking! I don’t think I’m particularly exceptional in taste though; these are simply stories that helped me through some difficult times, especially while I was in the Circle. I had a more enjoyable experience than most, I would say, but still. It does get monotonous. And sometimes you needed a good story or two to remind yourself there was more to the world outside walls of templar shields. I also have to thank you for the wonderful story you sent me; it’s so interesting to me to hear of Tevinter - you haven’t bored me at all. It’s so fascinating, seeing the differences of how magic is treated between Tevinter and the south, but it all comes back to the same, doesn’t it? 

You sent me a nug, and I’ve sent you a few back, based on the pattern from the one you sent me. (It’s a wonderful, adorable pattern, by the way - how did you come to learn how to make them?) You mentioned you’re not as fast at sewing as you used to be, but I’ve got far too much time on my hands, and I’m all too willing to donate them to a good cause if they’re for the children. I understand what you mean, feeling like you’ve had your childhood stolen from you. To tell the truth, I don’t feel like I had much of a childhood to begin with - most of mine was spent on the run from the templars. 

I grew up in Ferelden, in a dozen different places as my family ran place to place trying to dodge the templars. First it was just my father, but then we found out I was a mage, too. After that, we settled for a while in a little town on the edge of the Fereldan Hinterlands called Lothering, but it never really was “normal”. I didn’t have much of a childhood, mostly Father properly teaching me magic to make sure I never hurt anyone. If my sister or brother ever resented having to run everywhere just to keep us safe, they never said a word about it. I think I felt worse about it than they did. It was my fault we had to keep running, after all. The guilt for being the one to waste our childhoods caught up to me, eventually. So I turned myself into the Circle when I was nineteen. My sister wasn’t happy about that, but I was, if only for a while. It was a relief to finally be able to stop running, even if Marian didn’t understand what it was really like. But I had to run from there, too. I know eventually I would have, either way, but… still. 

I went back to Lothering when my sister came to the Inquisition. Just a short walk amongst the ruined buildings of the place I used to call home; the Blighted earth, the husks of the homes. Carver - my twin - died while we were running from Lothering, and I think I felt him haunting me, just a little, even if it was just a vision. It just made me think of all the homes that I can’t return to, even if I wanted to. 

I apologize if I’ve been telling you too much in my letters. But I have this strange sense that I could tell you anything, and you’d listen. That’s been a rare thing these past few years, and I’m sorry if I’m being impertinent with my assumption. But my original point - I understand feeling what it’s like not having a proper home to go back to. I could, but it’s not the same. It’s a shell of what it used to be. I tried to make the Circle home too, with my apprentices and my magical studies, but even that fell apart. I have a feeling you know exactly what that’s like - but you’ve found a new home to make up for it. I hope one day, I’ll be able to, too. 

Yours,

Bethany Hawke.

P.S. If you don’t mind me asking, could you see if a few of my former apprentices are among the rebel mages? I was separated from them when my sister and Anders left the main group of rebels, and I didn’t see any of them at Skyhold - although the rebels didn’t want anything to do with me. The second I stood side-by-side to Marian, I was no longer Enchanter Bethany anymore, I was Bethany _Hawke_ , sister to the most infamous woman in southern Thedas, and sister-in-law to the most wanted man; the one who made them run in the first place, and they wouldn’t let me know _anything_. Either way, despite my bitterness - could you see if they’re okay? I had three apprentices in particular - an elven boy named Zohar, a human girl named Hellen, and a human boy named Darien. 


	7. from krem to bethany

Dear Miss Hawke,

At this point, I believe you can call me Krem now. It is what most call me by, including the Inquisitor, and even though I only know you through ink and paper, you’ve become a friend to me. I hope I’m not presuming by any means. I have a great many friends amongst the chargers, but I enjoy hearing about people of all walks, especially those strange and separate from mine. I don’t mind hearing about your life at all - rather, I enjoy speaking with you. 

You thanked me for my nug, and now I get to return those thanks! Truly, you didn’t have to, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart I’ve distributed them among the children, and they adore them. They’re too kind to say it to my face, but I think they enjoy yours more than mine - the stitches are so much neater. As for how I learned how to make them… that leads to the next point of my letter.

I actually had quite a happy childhood, but all my memories are of someone I can’t recognize. My father was a tailor, and before I ever held a hammer, I learned how to work a needle. I mostly make small repairs to my clothing nowadays; the nugs are the largest undertaking I’ve had in years. That’s how I learned to make stuffed toys - I did it first for myself. We didn’t have much, so I learned how to make my own toys from scraps when I was younger. As for why… that’s a story I want to tell you, another time. 

But I can’t go back to Tevinter anymore. I deserted the army, and if I went back, I don’t know what I would find there anyways. My father was forced to sell himself into slavery, and I don’t know what became of him afterwards. When I left my home country, I had little of anything except my hammer and the clothes on my back. That is, until I ran into the Iron Bull. He knew nothing of me at the time besides that I was of the enemy; he was Qunari, and I was Tevene. But still, he defended me. Lost an eye for it. I was reintroduced to kindness that day, 

What I’ve learned from that experience is that I think home is other people. Of course it’s good to have a roof over your head, but it doesn’t mean anything if it’s lonely, as well. 

I think you’ve already found part of your home.

Yours sincerely,

Krem.

P.S. As for your apprentices, Zohar and Hellen are fine and amongst the former rebel mages. They want you to know they’re happy, safe, and fine, and keeping up with the studies you assigned them, just like they promised when they saw you last. They didn’t know what had happened to you, but now that they know you’re fine they intend to write to you. Varric will pass their letters along. However, there’s been no sign of Darien. But I passed his name among them, and I’ll keep my eye peeled for any sign of a boy by that name. I’ll do my best to let you know of what happened to them.


	8. notes passed between the bull's chargers

So, what do you all know of this girl Krem’s been writing to? He won’t say anything, and I’m getting curious. - Dalish

Krem has a _girl?_ \- Rocky

He keeps getting these letters and smiling like a fool whenever he reads them. The paper’s scented with _lilacs_. Keep up, Rocky! - Dalish

It’s the Hawke girl. I saw her name over his shoulder. - Skinner

Wait, I thought Hawke was with the man who blew up the Chantry? Didn’t we all read the Tale of the Champion? Didn’t Varric say when the Chief tried hitting on her that if she wouldn’t leave her man after he blew up a building, then he’s got no chance? - Stitches

No, not _Hawke_ Hawke, her younger sister. The apostate. Like Dalish. - Skinner

Not an apostate! _Archer!_ The crystal is for _aiming!_ \- Dalish

Either way - a mage girl. I didn’t think Krem went for those. - Skinner

You all _know_ I can read these, right? And don’t we all have work to do besides sitting around discussing my personal life? - Krem

And stop looking through my letters, Skinner! - Krem

Alright, lay off him. Krem, we’re happy for you, just be careful. She’s a mage, make sure you don’t get turned into… - The Iron Bull

Don’t say it, Chief… - Krem

Aww, let him have this! - Dalish

Krem brulee! Ha! - The Iron Bull

Ugh. - Krem


	9. from varric to krem

Krem,

I can’t bullshit to the two of you anymore, I’m not going to ferry any more of these letters between you two crazy kids any longer. Even my tolerance for nausea can’t hold out for much longer with this. I’ve written down how to contact her, and if any bit of this gets out and something happens to her or Hawke, _I know where to find you._ You think I’m joking, I am absolutely not; Sunshine is the last thing I’d ever joke about. 

You break her heart, _I break your everything._

Varric.


End file.
